The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball.
quote by Doug Larson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Visit With Aging
I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.
I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.
Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...
Seem to want to impress aging,
As a depiction you believe is an acceptable process.
Hey,
We all have our interpretations.
However...
Yours appears to be a bit exaggerated.
But I aint mad at you!
What your visit with aging is like.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Mind Has More of a Youthfulness
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed.
Some agitate their way through it.
Reminding themselves,
Nothing about this process
For them is welcomed!
And they are not pleased,
By anything it leaves.
And as I reflect,
Doing my best to accept this process...
I must admit,
Some of it I am not in total agreement with myself.
Although I go through the motions,
I am doing it with much ease!
Okay! I must say...
Sometimes I do get a bit perturbed and upset.
Especially when someone yells, 'Hey, grandpa.
Do you need assistance to cross the street? '
I grit my teeth with a fake smile I release.
Hmmm...
Is it noticeable,
My gait appears to be slower and more noble?
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed!
And I sit on a nearby bench,
To gather my breath and gently breathe.
Wishing the aches and pains that come with aging...
I could put to rest.
Knowing my mind has more of a youthfulness,
That my body, on certain days...
Could care less what my mind forgets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Process
This process.
As difficult as it is,
Gives an ease that seems to flow.
There is a representation that creates an image.
And that picture painted,
Allows what is in one mind to another show.
This process can also deliver emotions as well.
And the skill of it,
Can bring hardened eyes to soften with tears.
This process can even produce a fear.
With a rushing done by someone stunned,
To run from room to room...
With the turning on of every light,
With something firmly tight held near.
This process can invite those feelings of love.
And melt a cold shoulder.
Or...
Even heat a flame under burning sheets.
This process can also get extremely tired.
With a nodding of a process,
That introduces...
Sleep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maturing to Grow
Maturing to grow,
Upsets those getting old.
And this some show.
Hoping an aging slows.
As they regret,
Seeing those mature...
With an aging that shows.
While those who grow old to mature,
Are not upset by this process at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think about the cosmic snowball theory. A few million years from now the sun will burn out and lose its gravitational pull. The earth will turn into a giant snowball and be hurled through space. When that happens it won't matter if I get this guy out.
Something About Snow
I feel them.
Cold but warming.
Inside my pockets.
Inside my pockets,
I play with loose change.
While in my mind deciding...
Whether to make a snowball,
From fresh snow.
Or should I go sit in my car...
Kept running.
I remember as a child,
I would love the snow.
I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.
I take my hands out from my pockets.
I feel the heat released by the change!
I hide behind a tree.
People walking do not see me.
I hit one with a snowball.
I remember as a child,
I would love the snow.
I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.
Those days have passed.
I can not run so fast.
Today I drive.
Hopefully not to be recognized.
I would love to make and throw snowballs.
Not thinking of my hands.
Or the cold!
Or being chased.
There is something about snow,
That leaves an impact!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Songs To Aging Children Come
Through the windless wells of wonder
By the throbbing light machine
In a tea leaf trance or under
Orders from the king and queen
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
People hurry by so quickly
Dont they hear the melodies
In the chiming and the clicking
And the laughing harmonies
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Some come dark and strange like dying
Crows and ravens whistling
Lines of weeping, strings of crying
So much said in listening
Songs to aging children come
Aging children, I am one
Does the moon play only silver
When it strums the galaxy
Dying roses will they will their
Perfumed rhapsodies to me
Songs to aging children came
This is one
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perhaps This Time
A snowball on the ground, I have found, perfectly round,
created maybe by small hands, it stands and thus commands,
me to scoop it up and toss it across the cosmos.
And this I had wished to do, but it flew not, and slipped through my fingers,
landing at my feet, on hard concrete, no longer complete.
Carefully made and displayed, it was like a grenade
as the moulded flakes shattered into fragments which then takes the sun
to turn them into tiny watery lakes.
And now another snowball I have found, and this one is also action bound,
so whitely gowned.
Perhaps this time I can throw it high, beyond the sky, I know I’ll try.
Each single particle, never one the same, is so beautifully designed,
miraculously refined, and a pleasure to the mind.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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My First Time Being Here
The experience of aging
Is a process many fight.
Some act as if it's not a gift...
To grow older with delight.
I'm often asked how it feels,
To be an age I don't appear.
I tell them it's my first time doing it...
It's my first time being here!
And if I knew I should feel a certain way,
Nothing in my past prepared me for this day!
It's all new to me...
I have no clue how I should be.
Nor do I look in the mirror with fears,
To chase away!
('That depends on HOW I'm looking')
It's clear I'm aging,
With a grace I accept!
And blessed I feel everyday!
No one I know will be here forever...
No matter what's done to stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The business is built on slowing or even stopping the aging process.
quote by William Devane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Fire Inside A Snowball
Whenever I look out french windows
It's always snowing outside.
And feel your body relax on mine,
Giving me all the good lines,
(Uh-huh)
All the good lines,
All the good lines...
Hot in the ice,
On fire inside,
A snowball.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Hot in the ice,
On fire inside,
A snowball.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
A crystal layer of ice on our skin:
Very numb outside but warm within.
I bend to join our lips, but it's too cold
To kiss and hit. Is it you I'm feeling?
Is it you I'm feeling?
(Yeah)
Is it you I'm feeling?
Hot in the ice,
On fire inside,
A snowball.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Hot in the ice,
On fire inside,
A snowball.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
Ah, but she's wonderful,
Set in the snow.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proud To Exist To Witness Possibilities
I am glad I represent a generation aging.
With an acceptance to reminisce and reflect,
Upon the times I have been blessed to remember.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer.
Although I will admit,
A loneliness when so many are dismissing...
There are phases of life that should be natural.
And understood with observations undenied.
And moving forward instead of backwards.
Or remaining down to earth unchanged.
As many aging with their delusions intact,
Would like to claim with a sameness of sanity.
But isn't that what stagnation is?
A stubbornness that is fixed in place.
With ways that begin to collect ignored dust.
And being stagnant and stale, unchanged...
Is something I don't consider fresh or impressive.
Or sparkles as if proud to exist to witness possibilities.
Not if one is to grow and experience what life is.
Or come to realize this adventure isn't here to last forever.
I am glad I represent a generation aging,
With an acceptance.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer,
As a life I have learned to live...
To appreciate, explore and not take for granted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To relieve the urge is the urge.
You feel relieved
when the urge to eat is met.
You feel relieved
When the urge to drink is met.
The same relief you get,
When the urge to purge out
And the urge to pee are met.
Releasing the urge is the pleasure.
24.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dust Collector
Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.
'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '
~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~
A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.
'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '
~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~
Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!
'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'
~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~
'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You can't stop the aging process. There's only so much oil you can put on your body. I've always just tried to go with my age. If the part requires somebody a little younger or older, I can probably get away with that.
quote by Angie Dickinson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Snowball Is Back With His Hens
Poor snowball the white silky bantam cock not feeling well of late
His son big red has thrashed him he is in a sorry state
Dried blood on his neck feathers from the comb he has bled
He has really copped a hiding from his oldest offspring red.
Red and his half sibling cock white silky bantams by Steve and Annie to be sold
Around the yard with their parent hens they won't grow tired and old
In the fowl pen they are obliged to wait tomorrow at the break of day
Steve will take them in a box to the fowl dealing woman in the house across the way.
Snowball is back with his hens his aggressive son now behind lettuce wire
Will never have another chance of attacking his snow white sire
Snowball is Steve and Annie's favourite rooster and they decide who stay
And violence as big red will find out it does not always pay.
Snowball the silky bantam cock he crows in the backyard
With dried blood on his neck feathers and his comb from warring scarred
And tomorrow big red will be gone and snowball again will reign supreme
And he will recover from his wounds and regain his self esteem.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Throw It All Away
How could you
Just hurt me
And leave me
(leave me all alone)
How could you destroy my life
How could you throw it all away
What made you
Desert me and deceive me
Why did you just let me down
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw...
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
When I gave my all, baby
How could you throw it all away
And I gave my all
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
You destroyed my life, baby
How could you throw it all way
How could you
Just lead me
Into thinking
(thinking you would be there)
How could you destroy my heart
How could you throw it all away
I love you
Believe you
And I trusted you
(put all my trust in you)
How could you just let me down
How could you throw it all way
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Girl how could you
Throw it all away
How could you just take it all
How could you throw it all away
Oh how could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all
Throw it all away
When I gave my love
How could you throw it all away
I love you girl
You love me so
Where did we go wrong
I know that i
Gave my all to you
But somehow that wasnt good enough
How could you throw it away
How could you throw it all away
How
Throw it all away
How could you destroy my life baby
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
When I gave my all baby
How could you throw it all away
Oh, how could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all
Throw it all away
How could you destroy my life
How could you throw it all away
Oh, girl I will
How could you throw it all away
Always love you
How could you throw it all away
Forever and ever
How could you throw it all away
song performed by by 112
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I See My Friends Aging
I see my friends aging
Slower in all they do-
The wrinkles and the hesitations before not remembering,
The difficulties in things done so easily once-
I see my friends aging
Sicker and sadder
Their eyes in some strange distance-
Some of them courageous
With plans and trips and grandchildren,
Endlessly going and doing
And being the best they can-
I see my friends aging
And wonder how long I too can pretend
Its still alright-
At this time of life
Time is cruel
And we are going only one way-
I see my friends aging
And I will soon if I am still here
Walker cane wheelchair
Be ancient too.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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